The Secret Gardens
by Baliansword
Summary: A sequel to Night in Ecbatana, it is a view of the grief Alexander felt after losing Hephaestion. It tells what happened to the garden he made for Hephaestion.


**Title:** "The Secret Garden"

**Author:** Baliansword

**Rating:** T for teen

**Type:** One Shot

**Pairings: **Alexander/Hephaestion (in memory)

**Warnings:** Some memories with some sexual content; some sadness

**Summary:** The sequel to "A Night in Ecbatana". Chronicles what happens to the secret garden Alexander made for Hephaestion after Hephaestion dies. Definitely gives a reader a look at the grief Alexander feels.

**A/N:** This is the sequel that I've been pondering over for awhile now. Finally, I think I have something worth reading. Let me know if I do not!

**Dedication:** To all who suggested a sequel.

**H/N**:** T**akes place in Ecbatana just after Hephaestion's death in 324 BC.

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The jade grass gently rolled in the breeze, swaying back and forth. It was picturesque. As the gust continued, small flowers that clung to emerald stems waved back and forth. It created a sea of pinks, violets, yellow, ginger, and ruby reds. The trees were much the same. An azure lake sat perfectly in the center of this gardened area, crystal like in appearance. The wind stirred up ripples in the water and small golden fish rose to the surface to swallow up the dragonflies that landed to drink for a moment. Parrots screeched in the trees above. Everything was so perfect, so striking in appearance. Even a monkey jumped from one grand tree to another, effortlessly as it did so, as if once again it were free in the Indus. Alexander continued to sit there, watching, hoping that this would ease his pain. It did not though. Instead the tears that had stopped began to flow once more, staining his cheeks again. He cried as if the whole of the ocean was trapped inside of him and he needed to let it out. He collapsed back down on the bench and lay there, holding only the frame, wishing he could be holding Hephaestion instead. His eyes closed when they could take it no more, and he began to remember a time when tears never came…

These times were so long ago it seemed. He had Hephaestion then, when tears never came, and now without him all of the tears he'd never let out were present once more. Alexander could remember their entire life together, and all he had to do was blink. It was that simple. He could remember each and every moment they had ever spent together. Oh, his dear Hephaestion. Alexander knew that now he was lying cold on a pallet in his chambers, never to be roused again. Hephaestion, his love, was now someone that could be treasured only on Plutonian shores, where he no doubt drifted aimlessly. Did he wait there for him, silky hair draped around him in the strands he constantly twisted? Alexander let tears run down his cheeks as he thought of him, such a ravishing creature, trapped where he did not belong. He could never belong there.

Wrapping his arms around himself, he held himself tightly as it grew colder out. The sun was going to set at any moment. It mattered not though. There was nothing at the palace to go back to. The only thing left there was a life that meant nothing without Hephaestion. There were people there that hated him. There were those that would kill them. If he was lucky, they would kill him, and he could join Hephaestion. There was nothing here for him. His words were as true as they had been when he had said them to Hephaestion. He was nothing without him.

Alexander remained on the bench for some time before he had to get up. He wiped tears from under his eyes and looked once more at the gardens of Ecbatana. He then returned to the palace. Everyone made sure to avoid him. He was glad they did, because at the moment, there was no one safe from his wrath. Already he'd executed physicians that had lost Hephaestion. He had also had two of the embalmers executed for dressing him in lavender, which had they known him, they should have known he would have hated. Upon entering the palace, he returned to his room, and glanced at the pallet raised beside the balcony. Never again would he let Hephaestion leave his side, not until the funeral at least. For now, he remained close to him, where no one could take him from him again.

"Hephaestion," he whispered softly as he approached the corpse. To him, he saw not a corpse though. He instead saw a haunting memory. Yet, even that haunting memory was perfect. Slowly he reached out and let his fingers touch cold skin, taunt skin. There was not a hint of stubble upon Hephaestion's jaw, not now. He was flawless, even now, and this was not only pertaining to his cheeks. His lips still seemed to pout, as if pleading for a kiss, or as if pleading for a kiss. His lashes were still dark, his eyebrows arched as if trained to be so even when they were not. Even his nose gently sloped, allowing excellent cheekbones to be enhanced. In death, even now, he was flawless. Alexander continued to touch him, letting his warm fingers slip over cold skin. Then, he calmly leaned over as if there was nothing else in the world, and he pressed his lips against Hephaestion's. There was nothing he wanted more in the world than to have him open his eyes, to suddenly embrace him, and draw him close.

"Hephaestion," he uttered once more before tears flowed freely once more. Reaching up with his free hand, he wiped his tears away from under his eyes, and he then leaned his forehead against Hephaestion's. Sorrow was something that one could not be taught. Try as he might, Aristotle could not give them the emotion. He could only draw it out. He could only allow them to think about it. However, Alexander had never before thought that grief could fill him so. It aches in his bones. Nothing filled him, yet at the same time, misery was now his flesh and bone. Before he knew it, there were no more tears, and he was only sleeping –leaning against his pillar of strength that still had not given up on him.

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He ran a hand through his hair, and then ran his thumb under his eyes. He wiped the smeared black liner away and then leaned closer. He blew lightly against the king's cheek, drying tears, and ran a hand through his hair once more. Alexander's eyes twitched in his sleep before his eyes opened, and he lifted his head. Cassander smiled softly, feeling his pain almost. In normal situations, he would gloat that Alexander was feeling pitiable, but then again this was not a normal situation. At the moment, he would much rather assure him that he was still one of his truest friends, and that he too was affected by the loss of Hephaestion. Even Cassander had loved him, perhaps in more ways than even Alexander knew.

"I wanted to make sure that you were still breathing," Cassander uttered softly, knowing that no matter what he said it would be the wrong thing. He reached out and plucked an eyelash away from Alexander's cheek and then held it out on his finger. After a moment he blew it away, and then turned his eyes back to Alexander's.

"Go away," Alexander muttered. Cassander was not listening to him though. He never truly did, so it was not a surprise to Alexander, not in the slightest. Cassander was already standing next to Hephaestion before Alexander could say anything. Alexander was forced to turn his head to see him. He saw him, next to his beloved, and ordered him away in a more forceful tone. Cassander merely turned his head, glancing over his shoulder. He batted his eyelashes almost at the king, teasing him almost, and then parted his lips to speak.

"He smells like that garden," Cassander told Alexander before he turned his head again. He too reached out and ran a hand over Hephaestion's cheek. He was still ravishing, yes, but at the same time Cassander remembered that he was dead. "It was good that it ended this way, you know."

"What," asked Alexander as he pushed himself up on his bed, which he'd finally crawled to and collapsed on. He ran a hand through his hair, pushing it out of his face, and stared at Cassander's back.

"It could have been on a field," Cassander continued. He reached out and wound a cord of Hephaestion's hair around a finger. Never did his voice falter, it continued to be the same dreary monotone voice, as if perhaps in the end he knew that life did not matter since it could be taken away so easily. "He could have been bloodied and mangled, like so many of them. Maybe he would have lost his head. Who knows? He is still now, so still, cold with death. Yet, he is still Hephaestion. I can look at him, and I know him. Is that not better?"

"He shouldn't be dead."

"No," the other agreed. "We all die, Alexander. Even the sons of gods die. It cannot be helped. I just wish that perhaps he did not smell so much like that garden. You smell him, don't you? That fragrance, that place you made for him. Just like him, it rots now."

"Shut your mouth!"

"Alexander, you know he is gone. You cannot lock yourself away in here and leave the world too. Your empire needs you."

"Take it. It is yours. I do not want it anymore. It does not mean anything without him, nothing does, I realize that now."

"By the gods," Cassander chuckled to himself. He turned away from Hephaestion's body then and looked at the man that was still alive; the other half, the side that still was breathing. It was, of course, the instable side. Yet it was better than nothing, if Alexander would try to live. "Do you know how long I have wished for you to say such to me? The empire, yes, I have long desired it. We all have, all of your generals and advisors. We've become greedy, Alexander, and we as men want too much. I'm not ashamed to tell you such, for you already know. Hephaestion knew. He was the only one that was true to you. But let me tell you something, oh great king. None of us would want it in your defeat! You cannot lie down and die Alexander! You cannot do it!"

"Can I not?"

"No! Look at him," Cassander then ordered. He lunged forward, grabbing Alexander by the throat and wrist, and jerked him from his bed. Forcefully he shoved his head down so that it was inches before Hephaestion's. Anger surged through both of them. Loss pained both of them. They were one, yet at the same time, could never be granted such a bond from the gods. "What would he want from you Alexander? Tell me! Would he have wanted you to follow him?"

Alexander lashed out quickly, turning his body around in a fluid motion. He then quickly shoved Cassander away from him. Cassander fell back, but instantly bounded up again. This time, when Cassander grabbed him, he lifted him and shoved his back against a tall pillar. Alexander let out a muffled cry as he felt his back give for a moment. He then let an arm flail, and suddenly his fist collided with Cassander's jaw. Cassander's head jerked to the side, and when his head turned back, cerulean eyes stared at Alexander. Alexander stopped breathing, and everything in the world paused. Gently reaching out, he placed a hand on Hephaestion's cheek, as Hephaestion let go of him so that he could stand, or at least lean on the pillar by himself.

"Hephaestion," Alexander whispered as tears began to sting his eyes. Hephaestion's eyes were bright, and slowly, he began to smile. He lifted a hand, as if he were going to touch Alexander, but then stopped. Alexander did not notice, either because he did not care, or he did not want to see this. Instead, he reached out with his other hand and wrapped his arms around Hephaestion.

"Shh," Hephaestion finally cooed into his ear. He wrapped his arms around him as well, and embraced him, letting out a soft breath of air. "I need you to be strong, Alexander."

"Don't leave me Phae. You can't leave me."

"Alexander," Hephaestion said as he began to pry away from him. "Alexander I need you to be strong. Without you, there never was a journey. Without you my love, then it was all wasted. Don't waste it."

"Don't leave me," Alexander finally screamed desperately. Hephaestion did not seem to listen though. Instead, he backed away, and some invisible force seemed to push Alexander away. Once more he screamed, this time, there was no answer. Instead, there was a very familiar voice, saying something he could have sworn he already heard.

"I wanted to make sure that you were still breathing," Cassander uttered softly, knowing that no matter what he said it would be the wrong thing. He reached out and plucked an eyelash away from Alexander's cheek and then held it out on his finger. After a moment he blew it away, and then turned his eyes back to Alexander's.

"What," Alexander asked as he sat up instinctively. He glanced around the room, as if Hephaestion was supposed to be there. Cassander turned his head in the same direction, then reached out and pressed a hand to Alexander's forehead. Alexander turned to him, eyes confused, as if he knew not what was going on.

"Perhaps you do need rest," Cassander said as he helped Alexander lie back down. In truth, he forced him back down. "If you need anything, Bagoas waits outside the door. He refused to leave, and still does, so you might as well take advantage of that."

"You didn't see him?"

"Who," the other asked. Alexander could say nothing else. Instead, he shook his head. No, of course he had not seen it. It had never happened. Cassander said nothing more. Instead he nodded once, stood, and made his exit. As Alexander lay back down, a wind picked up outside, and it picked up the smallest purple flower it could find. It then carried this flower, whether drafted by Hermes or not, into the king's chambers. Just as his eyes were about to flutter shut, a lavender flower fell upon his cheek, and Alexander's eyes opened. Again, he could think of only one thing; it was that garden that haunted him.

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There were at least a hundred men that ran with pails of water, as if they truly could extinguish the flames. Cassander, on the other hand, merely walked through the night. Still dressed for bed, he walked closer and closer to the columns of flame. Finally, he turned down a path that others were running down, and continued. It took him a moment. Yet, finally, he stopped. Drawing in a breath, he sat, and glanced at the man beside him. He glanced at a friend in pain.

"Say nothing," Alexander ordered as he reached up with a hand, wiping tears from under his eyes. Cassander reached out and wiped black streaks away from the other side. Alexander jerked, his eyes staring at Cassander cautiously. Was he losing his mind, just as his mother had?

"Not a word," Cassander assured him. He then glanced at the flames that were licking the forest around them. "Come, Alexander, it is done."

"Yes," Alexander whispered. "It is done."

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A/N: Not what you were thinking, was it? Review.


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